Dutch Treat
by SuicideClub
Summary: Pairing: Brittany/Santana. //“They’re not even trying to hide it anymore, are they?”//


**D****isclaimer:** I do not own the characters, Mr. Murphy does. Spoilers from "Sectionals."

**Author's Note:** One shot inspired by reading the story "Fight Club" by **insaneantics21**.

**Dutch Treat**

Head cheerleader Santana Lopez sucked on an orange wedge, thinking to herself, "We are so going to win Nationals."

She and a few other William McKinley High School cheerleaders stood to one side in the gym, wearing their red and white WMHS uniforms. Santana's dark Latin skin and black hair contrasted with the pink and blonde tones of the other girls. They were all watching Brittany and two other Cheerios working on the Double Dutch portion of their competition routine.

Brittany and another girl were moving their two ropes over and under the third girl in the middle, who skipped in time to a hip hop beat blaring from some loudspeakers. Brittany's appearance was in part a product of her Dutch-American heritage - tall, fair-skinned, and blonde, with long, dancer's legs.

As Santana watched, the trio prepared for their finale. The girl in the middle moved to the outside, exchanging places with Brittany, who smoothly passed off the two jump rope handles. The tall blonde then took centre stage, moved upside down into a couple of hopping handstands and then twisting back right side up, pumping her pale legs in a blur as the pace picked up.

With a flourish, Brittany back flipped out of the skip ropes. She did a final little leap in the air, her right knee driving up and her head turned to her left, the muscles of her strong neck in stark relief.

Santana blinked and whispered, "Ms. Fierce, that's what you are."

A younger Cheerio standing next to her emitted a squeak.

Santana turned her head in the direction of the girl, pursed her lips in a true bitch face, and raised one curved eyebrow. The Cheerio seemed to wilt, like a flower in the desert heat. Santana opened her mouth to speak.

At that moment Brittany called out, "Hey, San! Save any for me?"

As Santana turned back to Brittany, the hapless Cheerio took advantage of Santana's momentary distraction and hastily departed for the cheerleaders' changing room.

Brittany stepped towards Santana, and the latter held out half of a peeled orange.

"Thanks, Santana!" Brittany said brightly, accepting the proffered fruit.

Brittany pulled apart the orange, popped a wedge into her mouth and started chewing. Her face scrunched up in a cheeky smile, her eyes almost squeezed shut in the simple joy of eating. Santana watched Brittany for a few seconds, grinning all the while.

Santana reached up with her left hand, brushed blonde bangs from the other's eyes and cupped her cheek, saying, "Brittany, that routine was so awesome. Lift home?"

Brittany swallowed and replied "Sure!"

Brittany, the taller of the pair, linked arms with Santana, leaned over and nuzzled the Latina's hair. They then walked off, in step, towards the exit.

Some of the remaining Cheerios watched them depart. When the door closed behind them a Cheerio with a skipping rope around her neck turned to the girl next to her and said, "They're not even trying to hide it anymore, are they?"

Another replied. "Well, I'm not about to mention it when they're within earshot. Are you?"

The first girl frowned slightly, "Nope."

***

In the hallway, Santana and Brittany walked towards a wall of lockers. Various students were also walking by, and a couple of muscular guys in team jackets leaned against the wall about three metres away, sucking back on a couple of slushies. One of the athletes sported a very short Mohawk.

Santana unlinked her arm, nodded a greeting at the two jocks, stepped forward and spun the dial on the locker in front of her.

Brittany said shyly, "Thanks, San. Combos are sometimes…"

"…Confusing?" Santana offered with a quick grin.

"You know it," Brittany replied. She reached in her locker for her jacket. Once she put it on she reached in again for a large Spanish textbook and a colourful pen with a cheery, rubberized tassel on top. Brittany smiled – it was that kind of pen.

Santana moved off to her own locker, a few metres away. She pulled from the locker a short WMHS shell jacket and put it on. She turned around and saw Brittany talking with a shorter, stocky boy wearing glasses and holding a clip board. Santana started towards them and their conversation became audible.

"Jacob, what's this about?"

"Brittany, as I said, it's a petition to try and save the dog shelter. Otherwise, those dogs will be put to sleep."

"Don't they need their rest?"

"Brittany, you know, The Big Sleep…like, in being _killed._"

Brittany's brow furrowed. "People wanna hurt puppies? I'll sign!"

She pulled the clip board out of Jacob's hands, balancing it on her text book. She signed the petition with a flourish, her pen's tassel bobbing about.

Jacob looked at the illegible scrawl, and said, "Uh, Brittany, you have to print your name, too."

Brittany's face fell slightly at that. Her lips pursed in concentration, and she slowly started printing in large block letters.

She had barely gotten half way through her first name when Santana called out, "Jewfro! You buggin' my girl?"

Brittany looked up at Santana and her face screwed up in a tiny frown.

Santana rolled her eyes, just a little, and started again, "_Jacob..._Let's talk, shall we?"

Santana gently pried the pen, book and clip board from Brittany's hands. Santana motioned with her head, and she and Jacob crossed to the other side of the hall.

"Brittany must have forgotten her contacts again," she said lightly, as she quickly completed the entry.

"I didn't know she needed corrective lenses."

Santana looked up and peered intently at Jacob.

"Right, right. Say, Santana. Would you like to sign the petition?"

As their conversation continued, Brittany remained by her locker. Her weight was on one leg, her head cocked at an angle. She was frankly staring at Santana's legs.

One of the jocks stood up, saying, "Watch this, Puck."

Noah Puckerman, he of the barely-there Mohawk, replied, "Man, don't do anything stupid."

The other athlete, a tall, bullet-headed fellow, barked a laugh and walked up behind Brittany.

"Hey, retard! " he called.

Puck winced.

When Brittany failed to turn around, the jock tapped her shoulder with one finger. First her head turned, then her body swiveled around to face him.

"Still can't spell your own name, Brit-Brit? Here, have a drink."

He hurled the contents of his slushie into the face of the blonde Cheerio. At least, he tried to.

Reacting instinctively, Brittany's legs folded beneath her like a limbo dancer's and she dropped under the arc of icy beverage. The liquid splashed onto the hall floor.

The jock's eyes narrowed. With his free hand, he grabbed Brittany's wrist as she stood upright again.

"Ow," Brittany said softly, "Please let go."

Noah pushed off the wall and took a step forward, muttering "That's not right."

"Yo, STRETCH!"

The bullet-headed jock turned in the direction of the shout. His eyes swiveled around then down as he located Santana, who was gazing up at him from about two metres away.

"You heard the lady," Santana said archly. "She shouldn't have to ask you twice. Or even…once."

Noah hissed urgently, "Dude, just leave it alone. Santana totally rocks at fight club. I'm a badass; trust me."

The athlete spared a quick glance at Puck, and had just opened his mouth for a scathing retort when he heard Brittany call out, "Santana! Please, _don't hurt him!_"

He was so surprised by Brittany's interjection that he dropped her wrist and looked back at Santana. Really, really looked at her.

She stood, balanced on the balls of her feet, her right leg leading. Held lightly in both her hands at around her waist level was a large book. A silly-looking pen was also clutched in her left hand, held like an ice pick.

Santana gazed evenly back at him, no fear at all evident in her demeanor.

The taller jock blinked a couple of times, weighing his immediate possible futures, and made a decision. He muttered, "Um, hey, Santana. Sorry, Brit, my bad."

He quickly turned away and slunk off with as much dignity as he could muster.

Brittany sighed, "Well that's a relief. I don't want you getting into trouble, Santana."

"Brittany, it's no trouble."

Santana gave Brittany back the book and pen, pausing slightly to run her fingers over the outside of Brittany's wrists. She stood on her toes and gave Brittany a soft kiss on the lips, both their mouths slightly opening with the contact.

Puck sauntered up. "Hey, girls. Save any lovin' for me?"

"Thanks for that meager assistance, Puck," Santana replied, ignoring his question. "I'm glad he took your advice, though. I might have broken a nail or something."

Brittany reached out and squeezed Santana's upper arm. "San, let's get out of here. I know you're driving, but can we stop for milkshakes? My treat?"

"Milkshakes? It's, like, freezing outside."

"Strawberry milkshakes, with…"

"…extra whipped cream. Okay, okay. You don't have to buy for me, Brittany. Let's go Dutch."

The two girls got their things together. After an enthusiastic wave from Brittany, they turned away from Puck, linked arms again, and headed down the hall.

Puck gazed after Santana, saying wistfully, "There goes the hottest LUG, ever. Brittany's hella lucky."

Jacob stepped up to Puck.

"You know, I'm a journalist. I observe things. I don't think you give Brittany enough credit."

Puck turned towards him, a skeptical expression on his face, saying "What're you talking about?"

"Let me put it this way. Can you imagine what Santana would be like, without Brittany around to dial down her crazy?"

Puck gazed after the retreating pair of Cheerios, his eyes going round with slowly-dawning horror.


End file.
